(It’s about seven am and my shift’s almost over. A young woman steps over.)

Young Woman: “Hello, I have a meeting in your meeting room today. Can you unlock it for me?”

Me: *in the middle of something* “Okay, give me a minute and I’ll be right over.”

Young Woman: “Okay.” *waits for a second* “Now?”

Me: *sigh* “Fine.”

(I grab the keys and unlock the door, then hurry to finish my work. A few minutes later, the same young woman’s back.)

Young Woman: “Excuse me; there was no projector in there. I was promised there would be!”

Me: “Um, I don’t know…”

Young Woman: “I was promised one! How will I do my presentation?”

(Luckily, my coworker arrives to relieve me and I hear him argue back and forth with the young woman about her supposed promised projector.)

Young Woman: “The sales manager promised me a projector!”

Coworker: “Let me call the sales manager.”

(At this the young woman frowns but doesn’t disagree.)

Coworker: “Hello, [Sales Manager]? Yes, there is a young woman here to do her presentation in the meeting room, and she says that she was promised a projector, and there is none.”

Sales Manager: “What? I never ever promised her that!”

Coworker: *to [Young Woman]* “She says that you were never promised a projector. Anyway, we don’t have one to give.”

Young Woman: *stubbornly* “I… I… was!”

Coworker: “You want to talk to her?”

(The sales manager and the young woman argued for a bit, and the young woman stomped off to get her own projector. She was unable to find one and had to do her presentation without slides, I heard. Boo hoo.)

I am working on reception at a fairly up-market hotel. A female customer comes to check out. She is attractive but looks very tired.

She has been with us for a fortnight and in that time she has never allowed housekeeping into her room. She has requested many new towels, though, leaving the dirty ones outside her door for pick-up.

We have been suspicious about her for a while, thinking she is probably a prostitute. This is against our rules, but the hotel is quite big and people can enter the premises without coming under the nose of reception staff, so it’s hard to catch them out. As long as their customers are discreet and they don’t cause a noise complaint or similar anti-social issue, there’s not much we can do about it.

When I print out the bill, she offers me a wad of cash, many thousands of dollars. We don’t have a credit card imprint, because she checked in with a cash bond, instead. I smile and tell her it will just be a couple of minutes, as we have to check her mini-bar, and dash up to her room.

It is an absolute ruin.

The carpet is dotted with hundreds of burns, where cigarettes have been flicked onto the floor. It’s also stained with food and wine.

The curtains have sweat marks on them. The glass is cracked in the shower. The bed is a wreck, structurally broken at one end and horribly stained across the mattress.

And the whole room stinks of body odour and smoke. It is absolutely overpowering, making me want to retch. We are a non-smoking hotel, and it smells like she was burning tyres in there.

I march back down to reception and let her know we have to repaint the room, replace the carpet and furniture, and charge her for the week it will take to do it. This is a standard charge for room-wreckers, which adds more than $20,000 to her bill.

She pays at once. In cash.

(I’m in a hotel room with my sister and mother, singing and bantering with my young sister as we’re getting ready. We’re currently attempting the song “Summer Lovin’” from “Grease.” One of my favorite TV shows, “Galavant,” wrote a knock-off of that song, and I — unapologetically — can only remember the parody lyrics.)

Sister: “Sing the original one!”

Me: *badly attempting* “Summer lovin’… da da da da daaa…”

Sister: “Ha! I know more than you do!”

Me: “Oh, really?”

Sister: “I know half of the words, and you only know five quarters of it!”

(My mom and I burst out in laughter.)

Mom: “Math is hard, isn’t it, [Sister]?”

(I leave my hotel and head for one of the taxis parked out front. I open the door but before I can get in, a man stumbles out of the hotel and throws himself in the back seat. I give the driver a “no problem” look, but before I close the taxi door I hear the following exchange:)

Passenger: *slurring* “Let’s get a move on!”

Driver: “Are you heading downtown this evening, sir?”

Passenger: “None of your business!”

Driver: “Sir, it literally is my business.”

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(I get a call early in the morning.)

Me: “Good morning. This is [Hotel]. May I help you?”

Lady: “Is it okay if I drop off some bags? I’m checking in today.”

Me: “Yes, it is okay.”

Lady: “Great, I’ll see you soon.”

(After she hangs up, a bunch of other guests line up to check out, and it gets quite busy, since I’m the only one at the front desk. A few minutes later, a lady enters the hotel with a bunch of bags and makes a beeline towards me, ignorant of the line!)

Lady: “Hi, I need to drop off my bags.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of checking out these people who were before you.”

Lady: “But I just called! I was before them. Plus, I have a taxi waiting!”

(Everyone in line is glaring at her and me. I want to get her away, so my pleasant tone gets curt.)

Me: “Fine. Just leave your bags there and I’ll take care of them.”

Lady: “But I need some money to pay the cabbie! He’s waiting!”

(I hurriedly made change for her, and she checked in later. I told my boss what happened, and my boss told the lady not to cut in front of people. She hasn’t again, but I am treated to a resentful glare from her every morning… and she’s going to here for months. Lucky me.)